Month: November, 2013

When I found out we would be teaming today, I was a little concerned. But let us be clear: I did not, in fact, judge you for your turtleneck-under-a-polo-shirt, 80’s mom jeans and white tennis shoes thing you had going on. No. I judged you for the fact that you broke out into a run on the way to our classroom, and then urged me to follow, explaining breathlessly, “We don’t have much time!”

So, when you looked back to see that I wasn’t following (you gave me an encouraging, ‘come on!’ wave,) and I shouted, “I didn’t wear my running shoes, so I’m just going to walk,” what I meant was: “I’m Miss-What’s-Your-Fucking-Name-Again, I don’t run for no bitch.”

If you don’t recall, here’s how it went down. I think you were taking a very long time explaining the story of Chanukah to the kids but, as usual, I am ashamed to report that I wasn’t paying very close attention. You put on your “bad guy” fedora, and said, in a very mean voice:

“If you give up Torah, and wearing kippot, and celebrating Shabbat, I will give you chocolate chip cookies!”

The children watch you, slack jawed. You then whisper to them, “Say no way!”

The children shout, “NO WAY!”

“What if I give you cookies and toys! Will you give it up then?”

“NO WAY!”

“How about cookies and toys and lots of candy!”

“NO WAY!”

“How about a trip to Disneyland, lots of legos and chocolate cake, and Star Wars toys, will you give it up then?”

It is at this point when a little boy in the back throws up his hands and, with a sigh, shouts, “Okay, fine!”

There are a few lessons to take from this. For one, most everyone has a price. Particularly when you’re three. Two, you just don’t fuck around with Star Wars.

I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop my sobs of laughter long enough to explain to you why the drama teacher was angry with you today. My best guess is that the line you were given was actually, “Yo ho!” Not: “Sup, ho?”

The other day, you asked me what a “dichotomy” was, and if it was “When they cut out part of your brain like in horror movies.” That’s a lobotomy. I have two things to apologize for:

1. I am so sorry that I began my definition with, “It’s that thing where…”

2. I am also so sorry that when you asked me about the book I was reading, Born To Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen, I told you it was great. Truthfully, I have never read that book. I assume it’s about running, but who knows.

Here’s a dichotomy for you. As I was sitting at that desk, explaining my running book to you, I was actually reading a book entitled Get The Guy: Learn Secrets of the Male Mind to Find the Man You Want and the Love You Deserve. But as you may or may not know, you can be pretty fucking brutal about that stuff so I swapped the cover with another book so none of you could give me any shit. How’s that? Here’s another one. When you and your idiot friend snuck out of the room while I wasn’t paying attention (I was probably busy reading my dating book,) guess who got busted by the old, cranky french teacher across the hall? Moi. And although I was pissed as fuck at you all, when that old bitchy lady came into the room and patronizingly instructed me to “Not let anyone else out of the classroom” because you’re all lying to me because I’m the sub and she’s doing really important work next door that shouldn’t be interrupted because I can’t control my class… I DEFENDED you. I told her that I had, in fact, given you permission to leave, that I “Wanted to honor you with the benefit of the doubt,” when you told me you needed to go next door and that she wouldn’t mind if you did. I then added, sweetly, “I find that when I am at a new school with little to no information about how things are run, I really have no choice but to do so.”

Cause guess what? You know that bitchy old french teacher? You know how stupid and angry and indignant she makes you feel by insisting on treating you like some kind of feral human subspecies? Well, you will always feel that way about her. I feel that way about her too. And it felt so fucking good to annoy the shit out of her.